


Under Influence

by Try2CatchMe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarcastically, his brain wonders if playing dead will help and by the time he figures out that's a terrible idea there's already another person in the room with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Influence

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing some sickfic and, well...

Kevin wakes up on the floor.

This should be more surprising to him, but it's really not.

It's happened more and more lately, his body just deciding to quit on him. Usually he's at least at the desk, but it looks like this time he wasn't lucky enough to be sitting down.

He's mustering the will to get up, something that's pretty hard to do when he can barely remember his own name through the fog in his brain, when he hears something on the deck of the boat.

Sarcastically, his brain wonders if playing dead will help and by the time he figures out that's a terrible idea there's already another person in the room with him.

Someone rolls him onto his back and a massive hand lands on his neck, checking his pulse. That's a little ridiculous, he's fine, just a little tired. He tries to say as much, but all that comes out is an annoyed-sounding exhale.

There's a frustrated huff of air above him, "Jesus, Kev, you're gonna kill yourself."

Oh, it's Sam, he finds himself thinking blearily as the hunter easily hauls him into a sitting position. What was Sam doing there? He didn't call him.

"I'm here because you _passed out_ while you were on the phone with your mom and have apparently banned her from coming to check on you herself." Did he say that out loud? " _Yes_." Sam sounds exasperated, but even Kevin can admit that he maybe deserves that. "Come on, up you go."

And then Kevin's on his feet, but just barely because Sam's still supporting most of his weight. Dimly, the prophet wonders when the fatigue got so bad that his eyes couldn't focus, but figures it was about a day ago.

He's wondering where exactly Sam's taking him before there's a blast of cold water to his face and, yeah, that would wake even him up a bit.

Sam's already closing the bathroom door, but takes the time to shout, "Get cleaned up, you'll feel better!"

Kevin grimaces at the lost time, but figures he's already wet anyway so he might as well.

When he gets out of the shower at long last he cringes at the thought of putting back on his wet clothes, but he doesn't have any clean ones to change into since translating the Word of God didn't exactly leave time for laundry.

But his dirty clothes have been whisked away and there's a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie left in their place. He has to tie the drawstring as tight as it will possibly go on the pants and he feels like he's swimming in the hoodie, but it's doable.

There's a migraine pounding steadily away behind his eyes when he stumbles out of the bathroom. Sam's there immediately, clapping a hand onto his shoulder that would have knocked him down if it weren't also holding him up, and marching him into what passes as the bedroom on this forsaken boat.

The hunter forces him to sit on the bed and stalks back out into the main room and by the time Kevin's brain manages to catch up he's already back, all but shoving a bowl into the prophet's hands.

"You need to eat something with actual nutritional value," he says, and he sounds kind of angry.

Kevin knows better than to tangle with an angry Winchester, so he obediently eats his soup which is actually _really freaking good_. Mostly because it's not _hot dogs_. Sam, meanwhile, sits in silence with hunched shoulders and an almost tangibly growing air of frustration.

"I _told_ you that you have to stop pushing yourself like this," the hunter finally says, words snapping out of him like he'd been holding them inside his chest and just couldn't any more. "You've _got_ to take better care of yourself."

"The sooner I get the tablet translated, the sooner this will be over." Kevin's actually very proud of himself for not slurring his words at all there, see, he is totally fine.

Sam apparently does not agree, "Yeah it'll be over, but if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer you come out the other end alive." Kevin's heart flips, but he's going to blame it on all the meds he's been munching on for his headaches. It's not _his_ fault Sam is incredibly attractive, after all. Besides, this is clearly a Very Serious Conversation. "If everyone would just quit trying to martyr themselves here, things will probably turn out a lot better."

Kevin gets the feeling that maybe he's not the one this speech is meant for, so he wisely keeps quiet while devouring his soup because he can't remember the last time he saw a vegetable, okay?

Whisking the bowl away from him as soon as he's done, Sam stands and uses every single inch he possesses to look intimidating while he says, "Now you're going to get at least eight hours of sleep before going anywhere near that tablet."

A noise of protest works its way out of Kevin's throat because _eight hours_!? That's so much progress he could be making!

Before he can say as much, Sam growls down at him, "I will handcuff you to this bed."

And then, because Kevin's mind hates him so, _so_ much, all he can say is, "Promise?"

The glare he was getting disappears and Sam stares at him, wide-eyed, "What?"

Fortunately, Kevin's mouth exists on a different wavelength than his brain, which is pleading for someone to conveniently snipe him off any second now, "I'm sleep-deprived enough to be legally intoxicated, nothing I say can be held against me."

Then his brain informs him that the best idea is to flop against the pillows, pass the hell out, and hope he can get away with faking amnesia in the morning.

For the first time all day, he agrees with it and does so, leaving Sam standing in the doorway with an empty bowl, blinking in confusion.


End file.
